Ode to Zhian King
Hypocrite, a mask of lies unfurled,
Bruiser of homes, a tyrant in the world,
Scum of the earth, a phoenix falsely crowned,
Master of pickup, in shadows he’s found.
Narcissist dark, a soul of cold despair,
Grandet reborn, with miser’s greedy glare,
Stingy and stubborn, no fault he’ll confess,
A broken jar, he shatters in distress.
Macho and brash, a cancer of pride,
Empathy lost, with nowhere to hide,
Defenses breached, pounded to dust,
Double standards gleam through his rust.
Falsehood his cloak, cunning his art,
Venomous tongue, a treacherous heart,
Wicked and sly, devoid of grace,
A polished egoist, morals misplaced.
Dodging the weight, with slippery plea,
Quibbling his way, no truth to see,
His persona crumbles, a tower laid low,
Socially dead, in shame’s undertow.
Fleeing the web, he twists the tale,
Black turns to white, his conscience frail,
A facade of virtue, a hollow charade,
His heart rots deep, corrupt and decayed,
Gone, oh gone, to ruin he’s sped,
Dead, oh dead, in spirit and tread.
